


Riding the Flood

by Sereq_ieh_Dashret



Series: The Makings of a Revolution [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Chess, Child Soldiers, Dark Side Positivity, Darth Maul is already dead, Debt cycle, Economics, Enemies to Lovers, Espionage, Everybody has it, Explicit Sexual Content, Force Bond (Star Wars), Grievous more than most, He's one hot lizardperson, Heavy references to SWTOR, Jedi Reformation, Light BDSM, M/M, Married Sith, Meddling ancestors, Multi, Parkour, Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Cyborg Grievous, Quasi-Forceful Grievous, Queer Families, Revolution, Running, Semi-Public Sex, Sith Holochrons, Slavery, Social Justice, Socialism, Spiritually conjoined twins, The Dark Side is not Fascism, They swear quite a bit, They try to fix everything, pre-AOTC, sass wars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-10 04:16:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11119731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sereq_ieh_Dashret/pseuds/Sereq_ieh_Dashret
Summary: The weight of Fate is heavy on Obi-Wan's shoulders and it grows heavier daily with every fresh piece of evidence about the corruption and i equality of the Republic. The Dark Side looms over the future, growing stronger every day and he feels powerless to stop it.The meeting on Deneza is the last straw, but at least he can distract himself with San Hill's handsome, fascinating, equally frustrated enforcer, Grievous, Warlord of Kalee.Upmanship leads to flirting, flirting leads to clandestine encounters, which lead to plotting a revolution together... the Dark Side is just around the corner, but is it a bad thing?





	1. Deneza

**Author's Note:**

> This work owes a lot to "Compromise" by decepticondrugs. They was the one who revealed to me the possibilities of this pairing.  
> Apart from that, I am using the old EU backstory for Grievous from the comic Eyes of the Revolution and the book "Labyrinth of Evil". The new implied canon from Clone Wars sucks.
> 
> This story is mostly porn, but it is also steeped in antifascism, socialism and social justice, and influenced by kemetic concepts.
> 
> I have a fee chapters already written, but I get easily distracted by plot bunnies, so don't expect anything.

The first time they met it was at a peace conference of sorts.

The Denezans had refused to repay the interests on a loan they were issued by the IGBC and the bankers threatened to send their Security and Collections Division to collect their due from their cold dead hands, if necessary.

No banking company wanted to end up like the B'aerdii during Revan's campaigns on Mandalore. Their collapse had triggered a banking crisis that had sent the whole Florendya System into utter ruin, and in time they had become a bit like a cautionary tale to every banking company, especially those who operated from heavily tertiarised planets which could not rely on a strong industry to save them from bankruptcy.  
Loans had to be repaid or else.

In this particular case, Else was quite happily on the verge of happening under the guise of a well-trained Iotran contingent, with all the trimmings of hailfire droids and automated battle tanks and one of the most hardass military commanders of the whole Galaxy, none other than Ghamdzhan kaghan, AKA General Grievous to all those who could not be bothered to learn how to pronounce his name, Supreme Warlord of Kalee and vanquisher of the Republican land army who was supposed to invade his planet.

For the majority of the still-in-development Outer Rim planets that would have meant having their main assets conquered and auctioned off to repay their debt in no time at all, but Deneza was a human-majority planet, a sort of mixed colony of Alderaan and Corellia, and as such it didn't lack the necessary leverage to pull the Senate into the whole mess. The Senate pulled the Jedi Order in, of course, and so there Obi-Wan was, listening with increasing impatience the whingeing of the Denezan envoys, who were trying to explain how they couldn't possibly be expected to repay their due like everybody else.

Thankfully, Obi-Wan was not expected to partecipate in the negoriations, for once. No, this time his role was more demonstrative than anything else, meant to counter an equal show of force from the IGBC side.  
They had brought Grievous to the negotiating table, as a sort of tangible reminder of what would happen to them if a solution was not found, so Master Adi Gallia and Master Plo Koon, who were spearheading the legal team, had decided to bring him, the Sith-killer, along.

And so they sat at the negotiating table, just across from each other, weapons in the service of their respective factions.  
Obi-Wan had the distinct impression that the IGBC had picked the more impressive-looking one.  
Grievous sat next to Chairman Hill, dressed in white from head to toe. His sleeveless vest and tunic and his knee-length baggy trousers were white, and so were the greaves and vambraces he was wearing as if he expected a battle, matte duranium thick enough to stop a lightsaber but light enough to minimally hinder his movements. A white cloak streamed from his broad shoulders and a white head-wrap covered his hair. Only a wisp of it escaped at the front, hinting at the fact that it must be inky black and wavy.  
The stark contrast with his clothes made his dark red skin look even more vibrant, like freshly spilled blood, and there was a fair bit of it exposed in that outfit, scaly and marked by quite a few scars, taut over lean, defined muscle.  
A mask covered most of his face. It too was white, marked with red vertical lines over the eyes and down the cheeks, a bit like stylised tears, and left only an impressive set of tusks and his eyes visible, so that the Denezans could feel the full force of his glare.

Compared to him, Obi-Wan didn't seem much, just a shortish human in a Jedi uniform with a mop of ginger hair and an even more ginger beard, but while the khaghan wasn't quite as open with his assessment, the Jedi could feel the weight of his gaze as it landed over him every now and again, considering, measuring, weighing chances.  
Obi-Wan could feel his presence in the Force, sharp like the edge of the twin swords of Mando steel he carried at his waist as it probed against his.  
The rumors that said he was a Darksider were not so far from the truth, then: he was Force-sensitive, maybe not enough to make it into the Jedi Order, but definitely enough to matter in a fight, and his Force-signature was heavy with anger and pain and focused tightly, like a weapon, not very dissimilar from Maul's, but thankfully not as strong.

Grievous would not be chucking loose objects at him with the Force, but he might be skilled enough to dodge a saber swipe and retribute with those wicked swords of his. He was a warrior, a killer, and was clearly spoiling for a fight, and all things considered, Obi-Wan wouldn't mind giving him one, if need be. May the Force forgive him, he nearly hoped that need indeed be, if only to rescue them both from that stupid talk.

The Denezan envoy sputtered out some more nonsense about special conditions and whatnot and Obi-Wan felt compelled to look away from him in an attempt to distance himself from that frankly squallid show. Grievous must have decided that glaring wasn't going to make the Denezan suddenly grow some sense and looked away at the same time and their gazes finally met across the table.

His eyes were golden, the pupils vertical like a cat's or more appropriately like a snake's, contracted to the thinnest slit in irritation. Obi-Wan would have bet they glowed in low light, also like a cat's. He had nice eyes, that he had to admit, large and expressive, almost mesmerising. He was frowning, brows knitted together under his mask, maybe confused by the sudden contact, maybe expecting Obi-Wan to take a hint and look away, but the Jedi wasn't ready to let this welcome distraction go so easily.

He held the warlord's gaze, forcing himself to stay concentrated, to not even blink and what had started as a casual contact immediately became a challenge. He didn't know how long they kept going, long enough that his eyes were starting to burn and water, before he realised that the frown under his mask had turned into a sly grin.  
Obi-Wan grinned in return wagging his eyebrows in a clear attempt to provoke him, but that only made the warlord's grin widen and his gaze become even more weighty, smouldering. He blinked slowly, without ever taking his eyes off Obi-Wan then settled back into his chair, to gaze at him through heavy-lidded eyes for the rest of the session.

There was something about that tension, about that cautious probing, feinting and preening like stags in the mating season, that was setting the Jedi's nerves on edge, but in a good way, making his blood rush faster in his veins as he imagined how it would feel to face off against him in a battle of wits and swordsmanship. He was sure it would be good. One didn't acquire the reputation of being Death Incarnate without being a tough bastard, after all.

Oh, Hells, if Death looked that hot, people wouldn't mind so much dying, he thought moments later, when the session was adjourned and both sides rose from their seats, stiff and frustrated. Grievous took his time to stretch out a kink in his back, and his short tunic rode up, giving everyone a front row view of his nicely defined abdominal muscles, tapering in a very sexy V just above the waistband of his trousers.  
"Damn!" Obi-Wan thought, feeling a wave of heat rise to his face and a tug of lust pull at his loins. He couldn't quite fathom why, but that bit of eye candy just did it for him, beyond any barriers of gender or species. Grievous cast him a long, almost predatory glance and lingered behind for a moment before following his boss, his cape swishing behind him, looking every inch the king he was. Obi-Wan had the horrible feeling that the warlord's little show had been a trap, set up just for him and Grievous couldn't have failed to notice how he had taken the bait.  
"Damn and double damn!" Obi-Wan cursed to himself. He had known for years already that he was bisexual, but usually he didn't behave like a lustful teenager in front of potential threats.

Well, he told himself, smoothing his robes down and sipping on a glass of water to give the impression that he had everything under control, usually such potential threats don't spend and afternoon engaged in a staring match with him out of sheer boredom, and don't look half so fascinating. Most threats were boring in their sameness: deranged Dark Side cultists, pirates with minimal imagination beyond pillaging places and making money as fast as they could, or unscrupulous capitalists and dictators that made a mockery of Republican laws, all selfish bastards who put their interests first and foremost and were ready to trample overy anyone and anything that stood in their way.

Grievous was different: an enemy to many of the powers behind the throne in the Galactic Senate, a hero to his fellow Kaleesh and to many other under-privileged Outer Rim systems, a fierce fighter for indigenous rights and against slavery, a king forced to work as a leg-breaker for the system he loathed so much, not quite a Forceful, not in the the usual acception of the term, but sparky enough to slay a Jedi in single combat.  
He was a man of contradictions, a wholly different brand of opponent from the ones he usually faced. It made him want to get to the bottom of the story, to uncover the truth hidden behind the really wild legends that circulated about the Kaleesh.  
That, and he was really, really hot, tall and broad-shouldered, all lean muscle and lethal grace, and Obi-Wan's fingers nearly itched with the desire to know how that scaly red skin would feel underneat them.

"Well, two can play this bloody game, can't they?" he told himself, and when the session resumed and their staring contest resumed with it, Obi-Wan made sure to loosen the collar of his tunics a little bit, to uncover more of his neck and a hint of collarbone, and then to make a show of drinking a glass of water in the most slow and sensual way he could, even getting to the point of letting some of it dribble from the side of his mouth.  
Everyone else was too busy arguing to notice, but Grievous never took his eyes off him the whole time and by the end of it, the tension in the room had stepped up a notch, making the air feel prickly against his skin.

Obi-Wan was almost grateful of the respite afforded by another break, for dinner this time. He had hoped to continue their game of flirtation and up-manship during the meal, but the warlord had seemingly disappeared into thin air, and when he brought that up, San Hill just said that he didn't sit at a gala dinner with his retainers, looking at him down his tiny nose with disgust, as if he had suggested something along the lines of fucking a bantha.

Obi-Wan felt inordinately incensed at that remark without quite knowing why. Grievous might be working for them, but he was sort of a head of state and San Hill would never dream of being so dismissive of, say, the Chairman of Pantora or the Queen of Naboo.  
It all boiled down to speciesism, Obi-Wan reationalised, and the point couldn't have been driven home more by the news he received when he surreptitiously turned on his comm to check the social networks.

Demonstrations and even revolts had sparked all around the Outer Rim, fuelled by the resentment of all the systems that were slowly being strangled by the debt trap towards the Denezans for trying to get their ass out of the line, towards the Senate and the Order for helping them do this only because they were human and well-connected and towards how fucked up the system was in general.

"We shouldn't be here. We shouldn't be doing this. We shouldn't be supporting this system. This is not peacekeeping, this is status quo keeping." he thought to himself, over and over, even as he tried to play nice and smile appropriately when the Denezan envoys talked to him.  
He wanted to puke or to scream because how blind could the Senate and the Council be?  
Didn't they see that by continuing on the same path they were just playing into the hands of the Sith? Didn't they realise that they would fall prey of the injustice and inequality that they kept fostering?

Obi-Wan knew that he should be meditating, letting go of his emotions in the Force, but he could not.  
The wrongness of it all suffocated him with no end in sight and he cursed his special connection to the Unifying Force that made him hyperaware of the future, of the possibilities unfolding before him. It seemed to him that they were running headlong towards an abyss, lured there every step of the way by the plans of the Sith Master and no one but him seemed to realise that they couldn't just do the same things as usual and hope for the best, that they had to change, challenge their assumptions and step up their game if they wanted to survive. The Jedi were so out of touch and out of time that they couldn't even realise that Anakin, their Chosen One, was growing disillusioned with their attitude and was heartbroken by their refusal to free his mother or do anything at all about the injustices of slavery.

He just wanted to forget, to distract himself with something immediate and pressing, a threat, a fight, a warm solid body to share a night of pleasure with, but alas there was a sore dearth of any of the above, so he did the next best thing.  
He drank.

Deneza was famed for its wines and for the rich plantations of fruit and flowers from which the Denezans distilled even more delicate liquors, sweet enough to delect the palate and yet strong enough to numb all sorrows.  
Obi-Wan absconded to a balcony overlooking the gardens with his third cocktail, hoping to find some relative peace and quiet from the incessant chattering of the envoys. The moon was shining high and bright, and the cool breeze of the night was charged with the smell of fertile earth and flowers. He took a deep breath and sighed in relief, feeling the pressure of the future ease up a bit, but soon the quiet of his retreat was breached.

The curtain separating the balcony from the hall parted and out came none other than his previous distraction, minus the obvious battle-armour and the cloak.  
"Ah, fancy meeting you here, General. I thought you wouldn't partake of the refreshments." he greeted, getting unsteadily to his feet. The alcohol was only partly to blame for that. Being cornered by a handsome stranger usually had that effect on him even when he was sober.  
"I won't break bread with usurers and liars, but I'd be a fool to miss out on the rest of the entertainment." he replied without missing a beat. An eyebrow quirked under his mask ad he smirked and Obi-Wan found himself at a loss for words, his throat suddenly dry. His voice was deep and slightly rough, as if there was a hint of a growl to his every word, and that look, paired with that confident tone scrambled something in his alcohol-impaired brain, making his cock stand to attention. He wouldn't mind entertaining himself with the handsome warlord. He was quite sure they could enjoy themselves together.

"The view is surely stunning from where I am standing..." he blurted out, craning his neck to look him in the eye. Screw subtle. He could not care less at the moment.  
"You have been watching me the whole day." Grievous commented, and from the tone Obi-Wan can tell he didn't mind.  
"I have. - he replied, taking a nonchalant swig of his cocktail - I was trying to figure out if you'd be the second Darksider I'd duel or the first one I'd bed."  
His golden eyes went a little bit wide at that statement, then narrowed, zeroing in on him.  
"I am no Darksider." he growled. He took a step towards him, but Obi-Wan did not budge. He was planning to get even more close and personal with him, if he could.  
"Does that mean you're turning my offer down, General?" he asked.  
He had barely the time to put down his cocktail before Grievous pushed him against the wall, grabbing his dick with one of his large, strong hands and grinding his own impressive erection against his belly.  
"You don't know what you're getting yourself into, Jedi." he whispered in his ear.  
"I am not getting myself anywhere. I rather hoped you'd get yourself into me, if you catch my drift." he quipped.  
A curse escaped his lips and he bucked even harder into him. "I thought you lot were celibate." he objected.  
"Not me. Not tonight, at least." Obi-Wan replied, sneaking his hands under the warlord's tunic to explore the broad expanse of his back. His skin was dry and slightly textured, marked by quite a few scars, and it was a pleasure to run one's hands over it, following the muscular contours of his body. Force, the urge to get him out of those snow-white clothes was increasing by the second.  
"But it's a limited time offer, General. Take me or... Agh!" he tried to say, but the hand on his cock tightened, tearing a moan out of his lips.  
"Your room or mine?" Grievous rumbled.

They picked his room at the end. Obi-Wan had the impression that Grievous didn't want to have his territory invaded and he really didn't fancy having to walk more than necessary afterwards.  
Judging from what he had felt on the balcony, he'd have a limp, come morning, well, that if the logistics of his plan were feasible, with them being of two very different species and all that.  
Kaleesh people didn't get around the Galaxy very much so he had no idea if he could actually physically take that ridiculously large cock in his relatively fragile, human ass.  
He had heard fairly horrible stories about alien cocks with barbs and spikes and he dearly hoped that this one wouldn't be one of them because he really really wanted to get pounded into the mattress by that handsome, angry not-Darksider until he was barely coherent.

Obi-Wan had set off first towards the rendez-vous point. He'd put all the sensitive documents away in the safe and locked it, cleared up the rest of the mess and freshened up, shedding some layers of his uniform and now he was waiting, increasingly anxious with every passing minute. What if he didn't show up after all? What if he got cold feet and decided it wasn't worth the risk?  
He really, really hoped that he didn't because he physically needed to get laid tonight.

A soft knock at the door. Obi-Wan's hands were nearly shaking as he opened it. Grievous stood on the threshold looking equally nervous and horny. This time his headscarf was missing too, revealing long, night-black hair pulled back in a braid.  
"You took your time." Obi-Wan whispered, pulling him in and closing the door behind him.  
"There were too many people in the corridors. I imagined you wouldn't want to advertise our escapade." Grievous replied with a shrug.  
"I don't and I guess you don't either." Obi-Wan retorted.  
"It would be best if it remained a secret." Grievous acquiesced.  
"Good thing the rooms are soundproof, then." Obi-Wan quipped.  
"Oh yes, very good indeed." the warlord growled and, as Obi-Wan had anticipated, took control of the situation, pushing the last layer of his tunics off his shoulders and running his hands possessively over his torso.  
"You softskins feel so smooth and warm..." he rasped. His pupils had already gone dark and wide.  
"I like the way you feel. - Obi-Wan retorted, pulling his tunic over his head, mindful of not snagging it on his mask - And I bet you will feel even nicer inside me."  
"You're really in need, aren't you?" Grievous provoked him, undoing the drawstring of his trousers with slow, deliberate moves.  
"I've been thinking about it for most of the night." Obi-Wan admitted without hesitation.  
Grievous let his trousers fall down and Obi-Wan couldn't repress a small, helpless noise at the sight of his long, thick, fully erect cock.  
"Do you think you can handle it?" he challenged.

Obi-Wan nodded and stroked it experimentally. No scales there, and no sign of spikes or barbs, only silken smooth, slightly veiny red skin, banded with fleshy ridges that gave slightly under his touch. Ridges were something he could definitely live with, he told himself and a thrill of anticipation coursed through his veins at the thought of what that lovely cock would do to him.  
"Force, you're fucking beautiful, you know?" he whispered, stroking him reverently. He had half a mind to fall to his knees and worship him properly, but it looked like Grievous had other plans.

Before he knew, his trousers were on the floor, his underwear had followed suit and his cock had been engulfed by one of his large, calloused hands.  
"Are you sure you want to bottom?" he asked as he pumped his hand slowly but thoroughly around his cock.  
Obi-Wan let out a mewling sound and nodded, arching against him.  
"Do you have any lube?" he insisted. His voice was breathy and his cock twitched in the Jedi's grasp. Obi-Wan was glad he wanted it as much.  
"On the bedside table." he gasped, nodding his head in that direction. He had taken it out of his kit earlier. The less fumbling, the better in these situations.  
"You came prepared..." Grievous commented, pushing him on the bed and leaning over him to get it.  
"I am always optimistic." Obi-Wan retorted with a grin.  
"It's not hard, with the way you look and that clever tongue of yours..." Grievous said. He wrapped his free hand around Obi-Wan's neck, holding him without squeezing for a long moment as he drank in the sight of his willing submission, then let it slide down his body in a slow, languorous caress.  
"Turn now, on your hands and knees." he ordered, letting go of him and shifing back to allow him to move.  
Obi-Wan complied without hesitation, rolling over to his front and pushing himself up, ass raised in the air in a shameless display. Grievous made a low appreciative noise and slapped it, not hard enough to hurt, but firmly enough to make him yelp in pleasure and quiver even harder in anticipation.

The cap of the bottle made a quiet popping sound. Obi-Wan writhed as cool gel dripped over his puckered hole, spilling down to the underside of his testicles, but the cold slimy sensation was soon replaced by something altogether more pleasurable when Grievous started massaging it in, slicking him up for the taking.  
He willed himself to breathe and keep his cool, but he couldn't help the low keening noises and breathy moans that escaped him as his partner slowly but thoroughly stretched him, opening him up little by little, questing, probing, until...  
"Oh!" he exclaimed, feeling a jolt of even stronger pleasure rock him as his partner brushed his fingers against his happy spot.  
"Ah, yes... let me hear how much you like to be fucked..." Grievous encouraged him, fingers rubbing over that particular spot again and again.  
"Oh, yes! Fuck! Please! Please, more!" Obi-Wan obliged. Broken noises were being wrung out of his lips with every touch, every brush, every gentle tap and he felt like he was going mad with pleasure.  
"Do you want me to fuck you?" Grievous asked.  
"Yes! Please! Can't wait any longer!" he begged and he realised that was the right tactic when his fingers withdrew and his ass received another firm slap.  
The bottle popped open again. He turned just in time to see Grievous slick himself up with a few slow strokes putting up another little show only for his benefit.  
"Alright, Jedi. Take it, then." he growled, lining himself up with him. One of his hands held fast to his hips and the blunt head of his cock nudged against his slick hole.  
Obi-Wan was on the verge of asking to call him by his name when the thrust forward, breaching him, and all words escaped his grasp.

Even tough he had been carefully prepared, Grievous' cock was large enough to spread him even wider as it went in, and it burned, but it felt amazing beyond words to be stretched and filled like that. Hands fisted in the sheets, eyes squeezed shut, limbs trembling with the effort of staying perfectly still, he submitted to that wonderful invasion. By the time it was all in, his skin was covered by a sheen of sweat and his breath was coming in shuddering pants.

"Fuck, you're so tight..." Grievous moaned. His hands shook slightly on Obi-Wan's waist as they waited to adjust to each other.  
"You're so fucking big... - Obi-Wan gasped - I will be walking all funny tomorrow because of you."  
"And you like the idea, don't you?" Grievous retorted, almost purring.  
Obi-Wan couldn't help but nod.  
"What a kinky little Jedi you are..." he whispered and started pulling back out, as slowly as he had pressed into him. With humanoid men the first way in was the critical part, but with those ridges the way out was as excruciatingly pleasurable. He could have sworn that he could feel every single one of them as they stretched his hole even further.  
Grievous fucked him slowly but relentlessly, sliding all the way in and then almost all the way out with every pass and the pleasure was so intense that he could barely think straight. He had never imagined that it could feel anything like this, especially not with a complete stranger, but even though it wasn't remotely gentle, or tender, Grievous was proving to be a surprisingly attentive and patient partner, one that seemed to genuinely want them both to feel as good as possible.  
It was just his luck that his perfect fuck-buddy was an actual card-carrying enemy of the Jedi Order, he mused, but his depressing train of thought was derailed by a few whispered words.

"You'll be struggling to sit still in that bloody chair tomorrow." Grievous promised, wrapping his right hand around his throat once more in a show of domination that had him whimpering desperately and rocking back against his thrusts to take even more of him in.  
"And every time you'll look across the table you'll be reminded of this, of how you wanted it... of how you took it... of how you begged me to fuck you nearly bloody." he continued, punctuating his words with harder and harder thrusts.  
"Yes! Yes! Please!" Obi-Wan exclaimed, half-surprised of being still able to string two words together intelligibly with his brain turned to mush with alcohol, pleasure and a tingling hint of lack of oxygen.  
Grievous let out what sounded like a curse and moved his hand to his hair, pulling on it to indicate that he should lift his torso from the bed.

Obi-Wan obliged immediately, braced his hands on the headboard and held on for dear life as his partner started pounding mercilessly into him, faster and faster, and at that angle his every thrust made all the ridges of his cock rub against his spot, over and over, until his pleasure became almost unbearable and his body started tensing and tensing like a bowstring. He wanted to scream his name, the proper one, but when his climax washed over him it was so bloody powerful that all he managed was a wordless, stuttering cry.  
Grievous cried out too, and it felt as if his cock had grown even thicker, or maybe he was just clenching so hard around him... did it matter? No, of course it didn't. The only thing that really mattered was the way he actually, honest-to-the-Force roared when he hilted himself in his ass and came too, spilling his scalding hot seed into him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now it is time to acknowledge another inspiration source "The Fox and the Strawman", a Peter Quill/Ronan the Accuser fic which gave me the idea of setting this fic during a diplomatic meeting.
> 
> In this chapter, even more smut and some stray feels start to develop.

The following morning, he couldn't quite remember how they had disentangled, or the logistics of the whole "cleaning up and wrapping it up for the night" routine.

He had woken up alone, as expected, in his rumpled, stained bed, feeling light-headed and sore all over, not just in the most obvious places. He had tensed up so much when he came that his abs, his dorsals, his glutes and his tighs were utterly knackered too.

He hobbled to the bathroom and soaked himself in the hottest water he could physically stand to loosen the contractures, then took a painkiller and walked quite stiffly out of his room to brave the outside world. Anyone who saw him stalk down the corridors of the resort like that would have imagined him to be a living embodiment of the belief that all Jedi had stick up their asses.

If only they knew the truth... no, actually, it was best that they didn't.

He dearly hoped that the rooms were as soundproof as they were advertised to be, and that the chambermaid-droids were discreet, because there was absolutely no way his tryist with Grievous wouldn't cause huge problems for them both, but the members of his diplomatic mission seemed to be no wiser about his misdemeanour than the day before.

Good, Obi-Wan thought. That of the night before had been folly and it couldn't happen again, he promised to himself, but his determination only lasted until he actually arrived in the meeting room.

Grievous was already there, sitting across from his designated place like the day before,  armed and armoured and impeccably dressed in white, cape and all.

His outfit was in no way suggestive, but Obi-Wan could not help but think about what was underneath it, about the feel of his skin under his fingers, about the weight of his body pressed against him, about how bloody beautiful he had looked in the low light of his room, powerful and sexy and gloriously naked.

He forced himself to look away, to pretend that there was nothing amiss, but he could feel the weight of that golden gaze on his skin as he sat down in his allotted place, ignoring the protests of his sore body.

He busied himself with stacking his papers and flicking through his half-hearted notes from the previous day (most of them were doodles, and not even very artistic ones), but that weight refused to lift and eventually he couldn't stand to play that avoidance game any longer. He lifted his eyes and met his gaze openly, like the day before.

There was a knowing weight to his eyes now, but the challenge, the hunger, the heat were still there too and the tension that had led them to his room the night before had not been released. It was still there, dormant, but ready to rise again.

It wasn't over. It didn't have to be. The peace talks were scheduled to last for another two standard weeks at least, fifteen more standard days of utter hypocrisy and mind-boggling boredom, but they could still be each other's coping mechanism.

Flashes of memories came unbidden to his mind, bodies tangling, hands touching, to inflame and then to soothe, lowered voices whispering harsh words of passion, of need. Obi-Wan felt his abused body twitch and clench at the mere thought, and bit his lip to forestall embarrassing noises.

On the other side of the table, Grievous shifted uneasily on his chair. His eyes had gone dark, slit pupils nearly oval now, and his hands were clenched into fists on the tabletop. He wasn't the only one having trouble keeping his composure, Obi-Wan realised with a hint of relief. 

He couldn't say he remembered much about the talks of that day. All his attention had been devoted to the subtle torture of provoking his supposed nemesis with tantalising hints and allusions and being provoked in turn without letting anyone else know what was actually going on. It was surprising the amount of things one could communicate with an unremarkable gesture and a pointed look. Over the course of that day, they must have invented a whole new language to tease each other, and most of its words were obscene. Obi-Wan couldn't remember another time in which he had been continuously aroused for so long, and by the time he retired to his room, after dinner, he was practically aching with a raging hard-on.

 

"I spent the whole bloody day dreaming about you, Jedi." Grievous hissed as he pressed Obi-Wan against his freshly changed bed.

They were both naked, and their clothes were mixed in an untidy pile on the floor. It was a miracle nothing had been torn in their hunger for each other's body.

"I could tell." Obi-Wan retorted, running his fingertips along his sides. His breath hitched and then came out in a shuddering sigh. It was good to know that he was quite sensitive, despite the scales.

"All that time you were hard for me, aching, thinking about what we've done..." he whispered, mouthing at his neck as he rocked his hips against his.

"You're beautiful when you come. - Grievous whispered in turn - The sounds you make... the tension in your body... the way your soft, pink hole becomes tight like a vice and squeezes my cock until it's nearly painful... I wanted to make you do that again." he admitted. He shifted his weight to one arm and sneaked a hand between their bodies, gripping Obi-Wan's shaft and starting to stroke it with slow, deliberate moves.

"Oh, Force! I had never come so hard in my life before. Never just from someone's cock inside me. - Obi-Wan confessed, arching into his touch. - You've ruined the rest of my sex life forever." he mock-protested, freeing a hand to encircle his partner's member and squeeze it gently.

"Can't say I'm sorry. - Grievous admitted between clenched teeth, thrusting his hips into his hand needily - But the least I can do is make sure you have enough good memories to last you the rest of your sad, lonely life." he added with a deep rumbling undertone. Obi-Wan didn't really know why he found his voice so sexy, but when he made those sounds it was enough for him to melt into a whiny puddle of lust.

"Do you want me to make you come?" he asked, taking control of the situation once again.

Obi-Wan nodded frantically. "Yes. Force, yes... but I don't know if I can... I don't think I can take you again like that. Not so soon." he confessed, braving his reticence. One of the best things about this arrangement between them was this no-holds-barred openness about their needs and desires. He wasn't going to ruin it by playing coy.

Grievous smirked under his mask and preened a little bit, and Obi-Wan found that he couldn't begrudge him a little bit of pride. He was hardier than he looked and it wasn't easy to force him to take a break from penetrative sex like that, after a single go.

"I don't mind doing something different, as long as I get to make you come for me. - Grievous declared - I want to watch you fall apart, I want to hear you scream for me. Would you like that?" he asked, without ever letting go of his dick. His thumb (well, upper thumb, or whatever) circled around the head, brushing against his slit in a way that was making it really hard for him to concentrate.

"Ngh... I can try to scream your name, if you want." he teased, but Grievous only chuckled at that.

"You surely can try, but I doubt you'll be able to articulate complete words by the time I'm done with you." he said, bending over him to deposit the words straight in his ear in a purring whisper.

Obi-Wan's breath came out in a strangled whine.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked.

 

They ended up lying side by side on the bed, Obi-Wan's back pressed against Grievous' front as he spooned him. He was trapped against that warm, solid body, and he loved everything about the situation, from the hard, twitching cock slotted in the crack of his ass, to the muscular arm looped around his chest to pin him, to the sword-hardened hand fisted around his dick.

Grievous was a man of his word: after a few minutes of that treatment he could hardly talk already. He stroked him as if he was a musical instrument and he wanted to see how many different sounds he could make, finding all the different ways he could bring him excruciatingly close to rapture and then pulling him back from the brink with uncanny foresight just as the first drops of pre-cum were starting to leak out of him. It was both exquisite and maddening.

He would hold him close as he trembled and whimpered for him, his own breath heavy and laboured, and would whisper in his ear about how beautiful he was like that, about how he liked to hear him beg for release, to feel him twitch and jerk like a trapped animal in his grasp.

Obi-Wan had never known he needed this, but he did. He liked to give himself up to someone else like that, to finally let go of control and let someone else look after him. He held on to him, for dear life, thrusting his hips into his touch, more and more frantically as the time passed, one hand wrapped around his wrist, where his left hand was splayed on his chest, another twisted behind him, buried in Grievous' long, thick hair, now mostly unbound from its usual braid.

He was half-lying on top of his partner now, and it would only take a small twist of his body, a small turn of his head for him to be able to kiss him and he wanted it, he wanted to devour that mouth, to snog him breathless, but the mask had stayed on, again, and maybe it was better this way. Kissing would make it too intimate, too real, and neither of them could afford it.

No, better to keep it casual. Casual was good. Casual did not lead to attachment, nor to suffering, nor to the Dark Side, but only to mind-blowing orgasms, like the one that was coiling in his loins, wound toghter and tighter with every stroke of his partner's fist.

"Do you want to come, Jedi?" Grievous growled in his ear, low and dangerous, shifting his left hand to encircle his throat once again.

Obi-Wan nodded as much as he could, making small needy sounds and bucking into his grasp. He wanted it so much that he couldn't even put it in words. He was on the brink, so close, so damn close.

"Then come for me... come now." Grievous ordered. Obi-Wan didn't know his command had been enough to make him, or if somehow he had managed to sense that it was about to happen anyway and had spoken just in time, the only thing he knew was that he did.

The coil in his loins released all at once and spilled all over Grievous' hand and his own torso in thick convulsive spurts as he arched against the body at his back. And he screamed, oh yes, he screamed, a wordless, formless, breathless, rasping sound that grated on his throat, and it felt right, because no words could contain that much pleasure.

"Damn you, Jedi... how can you feel so damn good?" Grievous rasped, some time later. They were still tangled up in an embrace and Obi-Wan could feel his still-hard dick dig into his ass and his heart beat fast and hard against his back. There was a hint of desperation to his words, a slight tremor in his limbs as he held him, a surprising edge of vulnerability for someone who looked always so confident, so assured.

"I'm... I'm a natural, I guess." Obi-Wan replied. His throat felt raw and sore from before. It was strangely satisfying to feel so fucked out.

Which brought him back to the crux of the matter: he'd had his turn, but Grievous was still waiting for his and it didn't feel right.

"Do I get to watch you come too?" he asked.

"Do you want to?" Grievous replied.

"I'd be an idiot to miss the chance to see for myself if you look as good as you sound when you do." Obi-Wan retorted.

"I won't beg you." he warned.

"You won't have to." the Jedi reassured him.

Obi-Wan scooted towards the headboard, half-sitting against it with a few pillows behind his back and Grievous straddled his waist, on his knees, gripping the headboard for dear life as the Jedi worked his slickened hands up and down his shaft as thoroughly as possible, letting those lovely ridges catch against his thumb one after the other.

Grievous looked absolutely amazing and totally gone like that, long hair unbound down his back, thick and black and wavy (damn, he had a thing for the man's hair), muscles tensing and bunching as he thrusted back against his touch, searching for more friction.

"Oh, gods... - he groaned, throwing his head back in extasy - You are the most fuckable creature I have ever met. So smooth and warm and beautiful... The way your skin goes redder when I fuck you makes me go crazy. You are intoxicating." he babbled, more and more urgently as he approached the point of no return.

"I don't know what you do to me. I nearly came just from watching you..." he confessed, sounding a bit disconcerted.

"Well, I'm glad you didn't. I wouldn't have gotten to see you like this if you had..." Obi-Wan retorted, meeting his smouldering gaze.

"One day I'll put that mouth of yours to good use..." Grievous rumbled, but the threat only sent a pleasant thrill through Obi-Wan's veins.

"I'll hold you to that, but in the meantime, where were we?" he drawled, a calm, boyish smile on his face and without warning gave the General's cock a good, hard slap. He had taken a calculated risk in doing so, but the answering yelp and twitch of his hips told him that it was a successful gamble.

"Ah, yes, I was fucking you. Shall I continue?" he provoked, quirking an eyebrow.

Grievous nodded wordlessly, panting hard and looking remarkably less cocky and collected than he had before. He was on the brink and it seemed like he too didn't mind a bit of rough treatment in bed at least in some circumstances.

"Do it again!" he urged, and Obi-Wan obliged, earning himself some more gasps and yelps and twitching, and at the end his partner grasped his left wrist and guided his hand down to wrap around his testicles.

There was no begging, just a long, needy look, and Obi-Wan nodded in assent, feeling a bit humbled by that show of implicit trust from someone who was supposed to be his enemy. He squeezed firmly as he fucked him, not enough to actually hurt, but enough to make him feel the pressure and the threat, to let him know that he was in control, and he arched under his touch, nearly wrenching the headboard off the bed, and came all over him with a triumphant noise.

 

"By the gods, Jedi... by the fucking gods..." Grievous panted after a while, laying back on the bed next to him to give his legs a bit of relief.

"Likewise, General. To the fullest extent." he panted back.

 

 


	3. A Morning in the Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, here is another chapter with some fartlek (sort of), parkour (sort of), and semi-public, open-air sex.  
> Just these two nerds having fun, basically.  
> Oh and some bittersweetness towards the end.
> 
> Warning: mentions of war, child soldiers, grieving.

The madness didn't seem to abate.

No matter how many times they found release with wach other, the tension kept on building up, like a hunger that could not be sated.

It was just cabin fever, Obi-Wan told himself, it was just because they were cooped up in that resort, stuck in meeting after meeting without end in sight and without anyone else they could relate to. As soon as the peace talks finished and they went their separate ways, it would be over, because it was built on nothing, on physical attraction and compatible kinks and boredom. It was as shallow as it could get and he liked it this way, he told himself as he laced up his running shoes.

 

It was the morning of their fourth day of negotiations and even after another vigorous session of non-penetrative sex the night before, he felt well-rested and recovered enough to train a little bit. Even though the sun had risen only half an hour before, the air was warm enough to train in shorts and a sleeveless tunic, and it smelled like morning flowers and dew. He rarely ever got the opportunity to be outdoors on Coruscant. He wasn't going to miss it now, not for a minor injury like a sore butt.

He couldn't stop training for very long.

He couldn't allow himself to grow soft, he told himself, closing his eyes and balling his hands into fists at his sides as a flash of memories exploded in his head.

 

Maul, that terrifying avatar of rage and determination, had just been the Apprentice, just a weapon of vengeance, just a pawn, jusylt a kid, used and abused and abandoned and left to die. The Master must have been a hundred times more terrifying, a thousand times more heartless and merciless, to let his own apprentice die like that, desperate, disiillusioned, alone, to discard him like a teenager would discard a broken toy from their infancy.

Obi-Wan had made a promise to the dying Apprentice, down in the tunnels under the palace of Theed, and he intended to mantain it. He would stop this madness, by his hand, with his sword and his wit and he had to be prepared for that. He had to be ready to face the Master and defeat him before he enslaved the whole Galaxy like he did with Maul. He would make justice, he promised once more, releasing the breath he had unconsciously been holding.

 

Obi-Wan warmed up a bit, stretching his legs and back and considered his options. The resort where they were staying boasted a large park, with grassland, forests and even a large lake. He set off along one of the paths that led towards the forest and started running, pacing himself for the long distance. It was five thirty in the morning and due to some committments of the IGBC chairman, the meeting wouldn't start before eleven. He had plenty if time to explore and come back for a shower before then.

 

He had thought he would be completely alone, considering the time and the company he was keeping, bankers and dandies and ambassadors who rarely ever took their lightsaber out for a real fight, but soon he started hearing the crunch of running footsteps on the path that run next to his. He couldn't tell who it was, because there was a sceen of shrubbery in the way, but they run quite fast. Someone had had the same idea as him it seemed.

Before he could properly start worrying about the identity of his copycat, the path took a sharp turn and joined with the next one and Obi-Wan nearly collided with them at the junction.

 

"Jedi! What are you doing here?!" Grievous exclaimed, looking a bit miffed and totally, utterly arresting.

He was barefoot, as usual, and was wearing only a pair of dark, knee-length shorts. He'd never seen him with no shirt and no headwrap outside of the low light and privacy of his room, but now he was standing there, in the middle of the path, bathed in a shaft of light that made its way among the shade of the foliage and his scaly skin reflected some of the sunlight, taking an iridescent sheen.

Obi-Wan's mouth went dry at the unreal perfection of the scene. He couldn't control the blush that rose to his face, but at least the oxygen debt gave him an excuse to delay his reponse until he had gotten his wild thoughts under control.

 

"Same thing as you, I guess: training. - Obi-Wan managed to reply with a nonchalant shrug and a smirk - Great minds really do think alike..." he added.

"More like: people bored out of their mind will go for a run." Grievous retorted with an eye-roll. 

"Well, I won't detain you, then. I shall be on my way." Obi-Wan declared, turning to take another path, even though some weird feeling tugged at his heart at the idea of leaving him there with cold words that sounded like a rejection when the miasma of sadness and desperation that always lingered around him (except when they fucked each other senseless) was even more prominent than usual.

The truth was that he was scared, he feared that if they stood together in the sunlight, if they talked, if they did anything but having mind-blowing, meaningless sex, the nothing that existed between them would turn into something neither could afford.

 

"Afraid you won't manage to keep up?" Grievous challenged. Depite the boisterous tone, there was an edge of need to his voice, of loneliness. Obi-Wan turned in spite of himself.

"Jedi do not engage in futile competitions. Self-worth comes from within.." he replied dutifully.

"It must certainly make it easier to swallow defeat." Grievous provoked, crossing his arms on his chest. He wasn't gaping at the play of muscles in his chest, Obi-Wan told himself, he definitely wasn't.

"Do Jedi ever play? Do they ever have fun?" Grievous insisted.

"On occasion." Obi-Wan conceded with a nod. He should cut the conversation and leave, avoiding temptation, but the pull of companionship, the promise of fleeting joy contained in his gaze made him forget the words.

"What do you propose?" he said instead.

 

In essence their game was simple, a training drill for speed and endurance: one runner would have a head-start of about ten, fifteen paces, and the other would follow hot on their heels, trying to catch up with them, and when that happened, they would trade places and the hunter would become the hunted and vice versa.

Nothing too complicated, except that both him and Grievous were stubborn, show-offish and extremely proud of their abilities.

 

They had traded places two or three times already, running deeper and deeper into the forest, when the path went down a rocky gully. Grievous was on the lead, still a few steps ahead of him with those long legs of his, when suddenly he decided that just running wasn't enough for him and stepped against one side of the crevasse to propel himself furter up, grab a ledge on the other side and scramble up.

Obi-Wan reacted with pure instinct and did the same, relying on his training to find the best holds to climb after him.

That guy was insane, Obi-Wan decided, pulling himself up at the end of the ascent. Grievous had topped out a few seconds before and was already running, but he paused for a second to look down. The floor of the gully was barely visible in the shadows, some ten meters below, minimum. Obi-Wan at least had the Force to help him break his fall if he misstepped, but his companion had looked absolutely confident and fearless, as if climbing random rock-faces was something he did every day, no big deal.

Shaking his head, he resumed his run, putting in a burst of speed and somehow managing to tackle Grievous in the middle of a clearing.

 

"What?!" he exclaimed as they tumbled to the floor.

"Yeah, what. Rock-climbing, seriously?" Obi-Wan retorted, picking himself up.

"I thought you could handle it. It was a bit more of a challenge, wasn't it?" he said, brushing grass off his shorts. They were both panting and warm from exertion, but they still had plenty more fuel to burn.

"It was fun. - Obi-Wan admitted - So, anything goes?"

"Anything but Force-tricks." Grievous clarified, giving him a hard stare.

"I wouldn't. It's not fun if you can't follow me." he declared, then turned and run without any warning.

"Damn you, Jedi!" Grievous exclaimed, a hint of laughter in his voice, and set off after him.

 

What had started as just training became a headlong, breathless chase through woods and gullies and grassy meadows. They ran and climbed, vaulted over fences and fallen trees, boulders and brooks, crawled into old, forgotten water mains and tackled each other to the ground at the end of each round, laughing and yelling at each other like overgrown children, all worries and sorrows momentarily forgotten in the immediacy of movement. Obi-Wan couldn't even remember the last time he had so much uncomplicated fun or had laughed so hard.

 

Grievous was on the lead again when they finally reached the lake. The path they had been following banked sharply to the left and would have eventually brought them back to the main building where their rooms were, but of course Grievous ignored it completely and just kept running straight, off the path and onto the shore of the lake and then into the lake proper, splashing water all around for a few more meters until he dove in headfirst and started swimming because why not, right?

 

"Damn you, you maniac!" he yelled, hopping on one foot to get rid of his shoes and socks.

Grievous laughed and paused, turning in the water to look his way.

"Come on, Jedi! It's not that cold!" he encouraged, waving an arm his way.

Obi-Wan kicked his other shoe off and discarded his tunic on the ground, then waded in the cool water, until it was more or less waist-high and dove in, swimming as hard as he could to close the distance between him and his prey. He touched the shore on the other side moments after him and set off again, or tried to. His valiant attempt at running barefoot was cut short at the edge of the grassland. The ground beyond was covered with pebbles and other loose objects that pricked his feet at every step, turning anything more than a cautious hobble into a torture.

"Damn!" he cursed to himself, hobbling back to the safety of the grass.

"Hey! Come back! I can't go any further!" he called out.

Grievous turned and run back towards him, completely unhindered by the obstacle that had stopped him, but the again, he was quite sure the warlord had never worn shoes a single day of his life, so he must have grown used to that kind of feeling.

"What's wrong? Did you injure yourself?" he asked, sounding mostly dejected but also quite a bit worried.

"No, I'm good, but my shoes are on the other side of the lake and I can't run like this." Obi-Wan admitted, looking down at his feet as he implicitly conceded the game.

"Oh. You're called softskins for a reason, I guess. - he mused - My apologies. I forgot that shoes are important for your species." he added with a small bow, sort of.

"It's not your fault. I should have swam with them on." Obi-Wan retorted, shrugging his shoulders. He should have known better than to break their toy so soon.

"So this is it, isn't it?" Grievous sighed, and the Force was becoming cloudy with pain, both his and Obi-Wan's own, once more.

They would have to swim back and return to that meeting in which neither part was contributing to justice or fairness or even peace, to their roles of weapons, tagging along without being able to decide about their fate in any way. Obi-Wan wasn't ready for that yet.

 

"We were playing with forfeits, right?" he asked, licking his lips in an anxious gesture.

"What do you mean?" Grievous retorted, frowning under his mask. He was sopping wet, glistening with droplets water and sunlight. Beautiful.

"It means that whoever loses or withdraws will have to do something as a penance." he explained, closing the distance between them and falling to his knees before him. Grievous was so shocked by his sudden move that he didn't even try to stop him when he pulled his shorts down. He wasn't wearing any sort of underwear, as usual, and his cock sprung out already half-hard from the confines of the fabric. Obi-Wan took it in his hand and gave the soft, silken head a lick, flicking his tongue against the sensitive slit.

He let out a choked moan and braced a hand on his shoulder to keep upright as Obi-Wan took him in his mouth, closing his lips around the head and sucking lightly.

"Th-this is punishment for you?" he gasped.

"Not at all. Maybe it is your prize for winning." the Jedi paused to reply.

"I thought we were not competing." he managed to say.

"Then this is the partecipation prize for us both. You're welcome." he declared trying to shut down the argument and go back to the business of worshipping that beautiful cock like he had wanted to do since day one.

"They could see us here. - Grievous continued to object and this time it was a sensible consideration which gave Obi-Wan quite a bit of pause - Let's move under that tree." he suggested.

 

The tree in question was large and old, with a thick trunk that split at a certain point, forming a sort of seat with its main branches. They grew laterally rather than upwards, and curved down towards the water, laden with closely spaced, pale-green, oblong leaves that formed a thick curtain, hiding the trunk from sight.

Now Grievous was standing against it utterly naked, one hand braced against a thick branch, the other tangled in Obi-Wan's hair as the latter sucked him off enthusiastically. Even though they were in the far side of the lake, surrounded by overgrown paths that had seen no visitors in weeks if not months, quiet was of the essence and the thrill of risk added an extra edge to their activities. Not that they really needed it though.

The noises his partner made when he run his tongue along the underside of his shaft were absolutely intoxicating and when he actually teased the ridges with his tongue or let him feel a hint of teeth... even though he could not understand them, he was pretty sure that those that were pouring from his mouth were prayers.

He'd grown rock hard just from his reactions, to the point that he'd had to take off his too-tight running shorts and was now completely naked too.

 

"Fuck, Jedi... your tongue is clever in more ways than one... this is nearly better than spreading you open and fucking that sweet ass of yours." Grievous moaned, thrusting into his mouth.

"Are you always so vulgar, General?" Obi-Wan asked, slapping his cock as a sort of punishment, not a very effective one, judging from the reaction.

"Only when someone sucks me off like they are starving for it." he rasped, throwing his head back and tossing against the trunk.

"Can't help it. You're really delicious." Obi-Wan replied, looking up at him. He loved the way he looked when he was losing control, all wide eyes, trembling limbs and a bright red blush all over his skin.

Grievous cursed again when Obi-Wan resumed his happy task, kissing him sloppily and taking him in his mouth as far as he could. It wasn't that far, but he gripped the base of his cock in his fist and squeezed as he bobbed his head up and down and his partner's legs nearly buckled under his weight.

"Good gods! Stop! Please stop!" he exclaimed.

"Why stop?" Obi-Wan asked. Did he hurt him? Did he squeeze too hard?

"I'm... I'm close." he panted, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the trunk of the tree. "Very close." he added.

"And that is a problem why?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Because I need more." Grievous whispered. He took his hand and pulled him up, flush against his body.

"Because I want to be so deep inside you that I forget everything but your warmth and the tight embrace of your body... because I want to make you come hard enough to see stars in broad daylight before I spill inside you." he whispered in his ear, feverishly, carding his fingers in Obi-Wan's ginger hair with a gentle, careful touch. 

The Jedi's breath hitched and once again he was taken by the sudden desire to kiss him, like a lover would, to hold him close and somehow soothe his pain, fill the aching void lodged at the center of his soul, but once again stopped himself just in time, even though it hurt even worse than the first time. So he did the next best thing: he yielded.

 

Moments later he was sitting, more or less, in a crook between two branches of their tree, conveniently placed more or less at waist height. His legs were thrown over Grievous' shoulders, his hands held for dear life to the aforementioned branches. The position was as arousing and daring as it was precarious and he loved it.

"Help me, will you?" Grievous said, touching his lips with two fingers. Obi-Wan flicked his tongue out, licking them, then sucked them in his mouth, working his tongue around them as he looked at him straight in the eye.

"You're unbelievable..." he groaned, eyes fluttering closed, then withdrew his fingers and placed them at his entrance, slicking it as much as he could, and slowly spread him open with gentle, careful touch.

Obi-Wan felt like he was melting under his care, relaxing around his fingers until there was no discomfort, only pleasure, but not enough, not nearly enough.

"Come on. - he urged, whining under his breath - Come on, I'm not going to break!"

His partner growled low in his throat and tightened his hold on his hip to the point of nearly bruising him.

"You're going to have to sit still all day... don't make this harder than it already is..." he warned.

"Yes, I'm going to sit there and think that at least I had something worth living for, today..."Obi-Wan managed to retort through gritted teeth. He couldn't even thrust back against his fingers or he'd fall off the tree like an idiot. Damn him and his excess of zeal! Why couldn't he just fuck him?!

"Point taken." he replied, proffering a hand. Obi-Wan spat on it and Grievous wasted no time slicking himself up with it. Desperate. They were both desperate.

"Last chance to back down." he warned as he lined himself up with with Obi-Wan's waiting body.

"Come on!" Obi-Wan urged him instead.

 

Grievous let out a low, rumbling growl and pressed into him and all conscious thought abandoned him for a while as his partner filled him to bursting with that long, thick cock and fucked him hard and fast, nearly folding him in two. His hand closed around his dick, and he pumped it as frantically, sending him hurtling faster and faster towards the devastating climax that loomed on the horizon.

"I'm..." he managed to warn.

"Yes! Do it! Do it!" Grievous urged him, thrusting with beautiful abandon into him.

Obi-Wan arched back as much as he could, as his vision burst with light and colour. He couldn't even cry out, could barely breathe. His whole body was taut as a whipcord, taken over by pleasure, but not so much that he couldn't feel Grievous thrust into him one last time and spill himself with a quiet, deep growl.

 

"Gods... I don't think I'll ever tire of this..." the warlord whispered after a while. He'd let him lower his legs, but they were still joined, pressed together as much as possible, foreheads touching, breath mingling, as they recovered at least a bit.

"Me neither." Obi-Wan admitted, threading trembling fingers with his.

 

In the end Grievous had to bodily lift him out of the tree because his legs were too weak and his back too knotted up for him to climb down on his own. They washed summarily in the lake, still under the cover of their tree, put their shorts back on and swam lazily to the other side, where they sat side by side on the grass to dry themselves in companionable silence.

Grievous had untied his braid and his lustrous wavy hair was falling unbound all over his broad shoulders and back like an inky waterfall and for some reason it felt intimate to just sit there like that, looking out towards the lake.

"We should do it more often." Obi-Wan said.

"What, screw each other raw in a tree?" Grievous retorted with a chuckle.

Obi-Wan punched him lightly in a shoulder.

"Training. We should train together again." he declared.

"It was fun. The most fun I've had in years." he confessed when Grievous didn't say anything but just looked at him slightly suspiciously, eyebrows quirked under his mask.

"I liked it too." the warlord admitted with a small sigh.

"And it was a great challenge too. You're ridiculously fit and, by the Force, you know how to move!" Obi-Wan continued, gently elbowing him in what he hoped look like a complicitous gesture.

"I was a guerrilla, I spent twenty-something years running away from stuff or running after stuff." Grievous minimised with a shrug.

Obi-Wan whistled low, then did a mental double-take. "Twenty-something years?! How old are you?" he blurted out, turning to look at him with a certain alarm. He looked young-ish, not much older than him, but by the sounds of it Kaleesh must have a really different aging paytern from humans.

"Thirty, give or take a couple of years. I really don't know." Grievous replied.

Obi-Wan looked at him with even more alarm. Woah, he thought, this was even worse...

"How can you not know?!" he blurted out before he could properly process that piece of information.

"I was five when the Huk destroyed our village and enslaved most of my family. My father and I escaped to the forest with a handful of other warriors and then we were too busy trying to survive and avoid capture to care for how old I was. - Grievous replied, looking out in the distance and curling up in a ball, arms around his legs - Every year was like the next, they blurred together in an endless war. We stopped keeping count, and at the end there was no one left who actually knew when I was born." he explained with another shrug.

There was along moment of silence, a lot more hollow and less companionable than before. Obi-Wan didn't really know what to say and he had the feeling that any apology he might deliver would be too little, too late, after all the bad blood between the Kaleesh and the Republic, so he just quiet and still, wishing there was a way to make amends.

 

"It's not your fault." Grievous whispered after a moment.

"The Jedi helped your enemies." Obi-Wan pointed out.

"The Jedi always side with the Senate and the Senate always sides with money. - he retorted - People like you, who question these assumptions, are rare. You'd better keep your doubts hidden. Your Order would not like them." he warned.

"If they don't, then they are corrupt and have lost their way. This is not justice." he protested.

"No, this is not." Grievous agreed with a sad smile. He looped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer until their sides were pressing against each other, skin to skin, for mutual comfort.

Obi-Wan wished he could stay like that, next to him, under the sun and never have to go back.

 

 

 


	4. The Chessboard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit filler-ish, but otherwise either Ch3 or Ch5 would have been too unwieldy.
> 
> Obi-Wan gets a bad case of feels and politics are discussed.

After that conversation, it became harder and harder for them to keep their distance.  
The nothingness between them had started to fill with understanding and intimacy and they both needed it too much to fight against it.

It was their quiet act if rebellion against that system that had cast them as enemies even though their ideals and beliefs were shockingly similar, as they discovered once they allowed themselves to talk to each other.  
Their hunger for each other was unchanged, as deep and insatiable as before, but now there was space for other things beside frantic bouts of sex: for playing together in the sun, or just sitting next to each other, basking in each other's presence; for long conversations about justice and equality and freedom in the low light of the lamp, as they lay together in Obi-Wan's bed, when the rest of the resort slept; for that unguarded openness that they had always shown about their desires, but applied to their feelings and their experiences.

Obi-Wan found himself talking to him about things that he would have never admitted to anyone else: about the Agri-Corps, about how he had always forced himself to be what they wanted him to be afterwards, a perfect, obedient little Padawan, a dutiful Jedi, irreprehensible, even though some days he felt like he was dying inside. He told him about how it was suffocating him to remain quiet and obsequious when he saw so many things go wrong with the Order and the Republic, because he was afraid of being abandoned again.   
He told him about Naboo and Maul, and how he'd held him as he died, and he was just a kid, turned into a weapon with lies and pain, about the Sith Master still lurking out there, poised to ensnare the whole Galaxy, about how the future weighted on him, as if he was a prisoner waiting in the death row for the footsteps of his executioner down the corridor.   
It felt good to have someone who listened without judging, to be able to let it all out without self-censorship.

Grievous talked a lot too, long into the night after they had lain with each other, tongue loosened by the afterglow.   
He talked about the war, about how it went all wrong at the end and their resounding victory was turned into crushing defeat not by an army, not by an enemy you could meet in the field and defeat in combat, but by orbital bombardments and economic sanctions, about how he fought to fix everything and ended up having to sell himself to the system he hated so much in order to save his planet, about how it was crushing him to the point that some days he just wanted to end, because there was no hope in sight, no relief, only the suffocating weight of responsability and duty.   
He talked and talked and Obi-Wan wished he could help him, somehow, share that load, because it was too much, and he had been carrying it all alone for so long... it wasn't fair.   
And yet it wasn't possible. There was no way it wouldn't end badly.   
A Jedi and a fallen king... that was the stuff of sappy holo-novelas.   
It was not real, it could not be. He knew that, but the yearning for it was as sharp as a blade.

 

"I have been thinking about what you told me last night..." Grievous said one morning as they cooled down from their now-usual mad run through the woods.  
"If your Sith Master wants to gobble up the Republic, he will need a war." he continued.  
"A war?" Obi-Wan repeated.  
"Yes, I have been studying your Republican Constitution recently, I was trying to figure out if there was a way in which the Outer Rim systems could form an alliance to strengthen their position in the Senate..." he continued and Obi-Wan was acutely reminded that he was not just hot and handsome and a fearsome warrior, but also a clever strategist and a cunning ruler, the kind that deserved the power which had been bestowed upon him. He'd had a big fat bout of luck that Grievous even looked the way of a garden-variety Jedi like him.

"I noticed that there are clauses that grant the Chancellor almost unlimited power in case of emergencies that threaten the Republic, so, in theory, the government could legally turn into a personal dictatorship, if faced with an external threat." the warlord pointed out.  
"That would only work if the Chancellor was a Sith." Obi-Wan objected.  
"Who says they won't be, when the moment is right? - Grievous retorted - Didn't your Sith say that the Sith had infiltrated the Republic so that they could destroy it from the inside? What better place from which to send it all collapsing than the top?" he argued.  
"Oh, come on! None of the politicians I know looks remotely like they could do the things Maul told me about!" Obi-Wan protested, even though a cold shiver of dread was running down his spine.  
"Yeah, because usually serial killers and paedophiles look different from normal folks, right?" Grievous teased him.

"The other day Anti-Fraud found payments from the account of a Senator to a child trafficking ring like the ones your Sith was a victim of. - he revealed - And as soon as I get back to IGBC and start digging into how the whole Cog Hive 7 operation was funded, I am sure more supposedly irreprehensible politicians will come out of the woodwork. This system favours those with money and little or no morals. Few would be above suspicion." he pointed out, his gaze piercing and hard.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and swallowed down the knee-jerk reaction to deny all those allegations and defend the Senate, forcing himself to reflect about his perspective.

How many corruption scandals had erupted in the Senate, leding to inquests and arrests? How many bills that would have benefited the developing systems in the Outer Rim had been shot down by block-voting of Core and Expansion Region senators with strong links to corporations who had a vested interest in the exploitation of those same systems?  
Was he still so sure that a creature like the Sith Master would not thrive in that environment? Was he so sure that the system was healthy enough to keep them from achieving their goals?

"Damn... - he exhaled, feeling like his head was spinning - What do we do then?" he asked.  
"We watch, we wait, we prepare ourselves to strike." Grievous replied with a smirk and a gleam in his eyes.

 

That afternoon, during the coffee break, Obi-Wan was sitting quiet and alone at a table, sipping his tea, when Grievous appeared, holding a tall glass of ice coffee with a bendy straw in one hand and a pouch in the other.  
He sat himself in front of him as if he didn't care about being seen by the rest of the diplomatic conference, placed the pouch on the table, slipped the tip of the straw under his mask and and took a sip of his drink with absolute nonchalance.

Obi-Wan nearly choked on his tea. "What are you doing here?!" he hissed.  
"Challenging you to a game of chess." Grievous replied, taking out of the pouch an old, wooden travel chessboard, scarred by years of use, two sets of disks inscribed with the values of the pieces and a small hourglass.  
"They'll see us." Obi-Wan protested.  
"We're just playing chess. Nothing out if the ordinary, right?" he retorted calmly, placing the pieces on the board with exaggerated care.  
"What are you trying to prove?" Obi-Wan hissed.  
"That I can beat you at chess." Grievous replied with a grin.  
"In your dreams." Obi-Wan declared, piqued by his confidence.  
"Well, bring it on, then. Dark or Light?" he asked, quirking an eye-ridge and opening his hand. The two kings lay on his palm, next to each other.  
Obi-Wan hesitated a moment, tapping a finger on his lips.  
"Light." he said, picking up his king and placing it on the board.  
"Good choice." Grievous complimented, placing his own king opposite his.

"Let's say the Sith Master is actually the Chancellor... - he whispered as he moved his first pawn in a classic opening and turned the hourglass - What could your Order do to take him out?"  
Obi-Wan looked down at the board and then back at him.  
"Are you trying to distract me or is this a real question?" he asked.  
"As real as it gets. - Grievous replied - We need to hash these issues out, preferably when we're not breathless and off our heads with too much sex." he added.  
"So we're hiding in plain sight. I like this." Obi-Wan commented, glancing again from the board to him.  
"I'm glad you do. Now make your move, Jedi. Time is ticking..." he urged.

Strategy meetings disguised as chess matches, both bitterly contested, became a regular fixture of their days. None seemed to suspect that they were anything but expressions of thinly veiled rivalry. Obi-Wan was perpetually amused and surprised by how little imagination people had. He couldn't understand how they could have missed the glances and the exchanges of whispered words, the smiles, the ease with wich they sat in front of each other.

They were closely matched, Grievous more offensive, Obi-Wan more defensive, both equally devious and imaginative, as they tried to outmatch each other over and over.  
The other delegates stopped and watched, eyeing their tactics critically, admiring, making wagers even, about who would win, but also about how long it would take until they clashed on a proper battlefield.  
They just ignored the comments and kept on playing. They had their own wagers riding on their games, and, no matter who won on the chessboard, both woukd enjoy the prize later, in Obi-Wan's bed.  
It was a happy couple of weeks, but like all happy things it too was destined to end.

Obi-Wan was half-hoping that the talks would drag, that there would be legal snags and disagreements, even a few meteor showers would do, just so that they could be together in that magical limbo for longer.  
He had been dead inside when he had arrived, he had been going through the motions of being the perfect Jedi without really believing that it would make any kind of difference in the end, but meeting Grievous had rekindled something inside him.

He wasn't the only one who thought that the system was broken, he wasn't alone, he had someone who could and would support him, not a mentor who wanted him to be like him, or a sibling whom he needed to protect and help develop into his own person, but a peer, a companion, something he had not had since forever, since he had been sixteen and innocent on Mandalore with Satine  
He had missed that and he was going to miss this even more. Just the idea was already painful, like a tear in the fabric of his own existence.

This was why the Order forbid attachment, he told himself.  
I should cut my losses while I can, he chided himself every night as Grievous pressed him onto the bed and made love to him, but he couldn't send him away.  
That much happiness, that sense of completeness couldn't be a sin, it couldn't, because otherwise there would be no reason to keep on living, because life would just be a cruel mistake in absence of joy, of beauty... of love.

Yes, it was love.   
It had grown out of practically nothing, out of physical attraction, boredom and pent-up tension, but it was real and it had taken root in his heart and he couldn't uproot it.   
He didn't want to.


	5. Reclaim the Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of the story arc with bonus lemon! 
> 
> Warnings: explicit sex, socialism, discussions of slavery, grief.  
> Heavy references to SWTOR and also to my fic "Hearts of Darkness". Go check it out if you want more sexy Kaleesh men tangled in messy romantic relationships.
> 
> I aso don't know when/if I'm going to finish this, as I'm trying to write some OF for an anthology and to finish a novel and all sorts of other stuff. At least this is an itermediate conclusion.

The morning of the last day of the peace talks, Obi-Wan forced himself to swallow the melancholy that had taken over him and get up at dawn for one last training session.

When he met him at the fork in the road, Grievous was waiting for him with a bundle of sticks and a closely guarded expression. The Force swirled around him without carrying any particular hint of strong feelings. He must have decided to play it cool and enjoy their last day together instead of moping around. He steeled himself up and resolved to do the same. He'd need a few extra good memories for the rest of his sad, lonely life.

"What are those for?" the he asked, nodding towards the sticks.

"For sparring, if you agree." Grievous replied, guiding him to one of their "secret" clearings.

"That's going to leave bruises." Obi-Wan pointed out. It was an insane idea, like all the others his partner had had ever since they met, but all the previous ones had been insanely funny and satisfying too, and at this stage he really didn't want to leave any road untravelled between them.

"Only if you get hit." Grievous retorted, throwing two of the sticks at him.

They were shorter than a standard saber, but well-balanced, made of well-oiled, thick hardwood bound with leather strips at one end to form a rudimental grip. Obi-Wan twirled them expertly in his hands, satisfying himself that they would do as practice weapons, then sunk into a guard, Soresu, not Ataru. With that advantage of reach and strength, his partner would tear through him if he gave him any openings. 

"Any rules?" he asked.

"Not in the face, because at that stage even our incredibly perceptive colleagues will notice." the warlord said.

"I wouldn't bet on it. They haven't noticed anything even when I went into that bloody meeting room dripping with you..." Obi-Wan commented, even as he nodded in agreement.

"No dirty talk either..." he growled. He had to put down one of the stick to adjust his cock in his shorts, and Obi-Wan was suddenly tempted to suspend the sparring in favour of more screwing. They only had another night left after all...

"Spoilsport..." he pouted.

"And no overt use of the Force." Grievous concluded.

"Sounds about right." Obi-Wan agreed.

"Ready?" he called out, adjusting his stance.

"Ready!" the warlord responded and launched himself into an attack, probing Obi-Wan's defences.

It soon became clear to him that even without active command of Force, Grievous was a worthy, damnably competent opponent. His natural talent for mayhem had been honed by years upon years of fights to the death against the enemies of his people, and as such his fighting style had little of the polish and formality that were acquired in a fencing salle. It was fast, unpredictable, very physical and quite underhanded, based on quick, brutal strikes, designed to incapacitate the enemy as soon as possible to get them out of the fight, feints, retreats, counterattacks, and quite a bit of punching and kicking.

It was unlike anything he'd ever seen, maybe except Maul's Juyo, and it was bloody hard to respond to, especially since it seemed like Grievous didn't have a off-hand like most people and could hammer him with equal strength and precision from the left and from the right. Now he understood how he had managed to take Master Slade Yalek down with the saber he had taken from another fallen Jedi. He had been forged in war and the Force must have burned with rightous fury for the woes of the Kaleesh, giving him strength. Few in the Order would have been able to withstand him on hostile terrain, in the middle of a pitched battle.

Obi-Wan knew he should be ashamed of it, because Jedi were not supposed to like to fight, but he was enjoying himself immensely, lost to the immediacy of the moment, to the rythm of the fight, ebbing and flowing across the clearing, to the Force swirling around them both, to the frantic beating of his heart. He felt alive when they were together. So alive.

"Damn... You're like a wall. There is hardly any way into that guard of yours apart from tiring you out." Grievous said in the end. They were lying breathless in the grass, weary and bruised but happy.

"And you're relentless and unpredictable like a stormy sea. - Obi-Wan retorted, placing a hand over his - Who taught you to fight like that?"

"Ronderu lij Kummar. My wife. - Grievous replied - I taught her how to shoot, she taught me how to fence. We were unstoppable together." he added and his voice acquired a melancholy, dreamy quality. He must miss her a lot, Obi-Wan thought.

"She must be an amazing woman." he commented out loud, shoving any sparks of jealousy as deep as he could in the trashcan of his mind.

"She was. The Huk killed her years ago." he revealed, and the only indication of his pain was the way it tinged the Force all around him.

Once more Obi-Wan was silenced by the amount of tragedy that his partner had experienced in his life and awed by the fact that he had managed to rise above it all and keep on fighting for what he believed in.

"I am sorry..." he whispered.

"Why do you always apologise for things you're not responsible for?" Grievous asked with a sigh.

"Because I have a feeling that no one ever apologised to you for all the shit you've been through." Obi-Wan replied, turning towards him and rising on an elbow to loom over his supine form.

"I am sorry that you had to fight at an age when kids are supposed to be playing. I am sorry that you had to lose so many of the people you cared for. I am sorry you are trapped in this soul-crushing, shitty job for the IGBC because it's the only way to save your people. - he continued, feeling his voice crack and his eyes sting more with each word - You deserved better than this. We should have protected and helped you. The Republic failed you. We failed you, and yet you're still trying to help me. It's wrong... so wrong..." he sobbed. His face was wet with tears and to make it all more embarrassing, Grievous was looking at him with an uncertain, surprised expression.

He turned away from him, curling up in the tightest ball he could manage to hide, disappear. He didn't want to lose it so badly in front of him, but he couldn't really help it. Their time was at an end and his heart was breaking already and all of a sudden the weight of all that evil and suffering had been enough to crack his fragile composure. It was too much to bear. Too much.

"Stop this now, Kenobi." Grievous whispered in his ear, plastering himself against his back and wrapping his arms around him. Obi-Wan had a little start at his words. He had never called him anything but Jedi the whole time, under their tacit agreement not to make too much of their relationship, and now he was using his surname?

"Stop giving yourself all the blame. - he ordered, even as he stroked his hands gently down his arm to soothe him - Slaves are not to blame for the crimes of their masters."

"I am no slave." Obi-Wan objected, sounding pitiful as he sniffled.

"Are you not? - Grievous retorted - The Order took you from your family when you were a kid, manipulated you into obedience in the name of a greater goal, made sure you had no life outside their control, turned you into a weapon. They were less sadistic about it, but how is this any different from what the Sith Master did to Maul, eh?" he argued and much to his dismay he found himself unable to form a coeherent reply. 

"The Galaxy is a fucked up place, but we both knew that already, didn't we? - he continued - It can be unfucked, though. We can change things and make it better. We can prevent what happened to us and to your Sith from ever happening to anyone else." he promised.

"No, you don't understand... the Force, it's unbalanced, it's flowing towards the Dark Side and we can't stop it. - Obi-Wan sobbed - I can feel it. The Dark Side is ascending. Soon it is going to be too powerful for us to stop it."

"Of course it is growing. You said it subsists on pain and anger and desperation, and the Galaxy is full of it because there are injustice and hunger and oppression and no one high up seems to care. - Grievous argued, lifting him bodily and depositing him onto his own lap - But anger can be a good thing. It pushes people to act, to make changes, to fix what's broken. The Sith Master doesn't own the Dark Side. It belongs to everybody. Maybe what the Force needs is for people to reappropriate it and use it to make the Galaxy a better place by bringing about that freedom and empowerment it promises." he whispered, stroking his hair gently.

"What in the name of the Force are you talking about?" Obi-Wan asked, a hint of alarm colouring his voice.

"It's complicated to explain. I will have to show you. - he replied - Tonight. I'll tell you everything, I promise." he added in response to Obi-Wan's confused and honestly worried expression.

That night Obi-Wan couldn't help feeling nervous, vulnerable and very much alone as he sneaked towards Grievous' room. His lightsaber weighed uncomfortably against his hip, his standard issue Jedi cloak suffocated him but he had worn both nonetheless. He felt overdressed and horrible, but he had not dared go to him unarmed.

Throughout the day he had not manage to shake off the (horrible, unjustified, paranoid) suspicion that his relationship with Grievous had been an elaborate plan of the Sith Master to seduce him to the Dark Side or to make him let his guard down to gather information and then eliminate him.

At times he though it might be just his insecurity talking, that Grievous couldn't have been anything but sincere when he told him those things about himself, when he comforted him, when they gave each other pleasure, but then that anxiety would start eating him up all over again, whispering that it had been all too good to be true, too easy, too perfect, that it couldn't have been anything but a trap and that he had fallen for it in his desire to be actually loved by someone.

The door opened at the first soft rap. Grievous must have been standing right behind it, waiting for him, and there he was on the threshold.

In his shorts. Unarmed. With his hands raised in surrender and a sad, desolate look in his eyes. Damn, Obi-Wan thought, feeling himself blush and wishing he could sink in the ground and disappear. He must have given his thoughts and feelings away during the day, in spite of how hard he had tried to calm himself and stay serene. The last thing he had wanted was to hurt him, but he had done it anyway.

Grievous backed off, letting him through the door and he followed. 

"So you've decided that I am not to be trusted even before you listened to what I have to say." he whispered, quiet and sad and desolate, looking down and hunching his shoulders.

"No, I...I want to trust you... but the things you said, they are dangerous! - Obi-Wan tried to justify himself, raising his hands in turn -  If my brethren heard you talk like that, they would arrest you for being a Darksider. They would arrest both of us!"

"And having a different religious and political outlook from the Jedi Order is a crime since when?" Grievous challenged him.

Obi-Wan didn't know how to reply to that question. He had never heard anyone frame the problem quite like that. He had always been taught that the Dark Side was pure evil and hate, and that the Sith were enemies of the Republic, which was a fair, democratic, caring system of government, the best there could be and that his mission in life was to defend it. He had learned from experience that the Republic could be as cruel and selfish as the Sith, but he still couldn't believe that absolutely everything he had been taught was a lie... that his whole life was a set-up, a manipulation.

"You said you were not a Darksider." Obi-Wan protested weakly, concentrating on the most marginal issue. He was feeling so incredibly pained by the idea that he might have lied to him that first night, that he involuntarlily wrapped his arms around his middle in a self-soothing gesture.

"I wasn't then. Maybe I am not yet. And I don't have anything to do with the Sith Master, i swear. - he replied, sighing and taking a step closer to him - Hear me out, Obi-Wan, please. Give me a chance to explain." he pleaded, and the pain in the Force reached such a peak that Obi-Wan could barely breathe.

"Then explain. Tell me why do you seem to know so much about the Dark Side. Tell me, because I don't know what to think anymore..." he retorted.

Grievous moved to the bedside table and took something out of a drawer.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked, holding it out on the palm of his extended hand.

It was a small pyramidal trinket, wrought out of dark metal with inlays of iridescent mother-of-pearl and blood-red coral that inscribed sharp, angular symbols on its faces. Its shape and colour scheme would have been enough to send alarm bells ringing in his head, but the blasted thing was also throbbing with energy, raw and blazing in the Force.

"This... this is a Sith Holochron." he gasped. His throat was dry like a desert.

"How... how did you get it?" he asked.

"I found it ten years ago, under the rubble of my parents' house, as I was trying to rebuild it with my spouses." Grievous replied.

"You're married?!" Obi-Wan exclaimed.

"I am. To several people, not all of them cis-feminine, who are also married to each other. And, before you start going on a purity rant about marital fidelity, marriages work different on Kalee. We're non-exclusive. - he explained curtly, raising a hand to shush him - Now, can we go back to the original problem?" he added.

"Right... a Sith Holochron... Force help us, you've had it for years..." Obi-Wan gasped. He was feeling like the world was crumbling under his feet, leaving a gaping void that threatened to swallow him.

"I only managed to open it a few days ago, and not for lack of trying. - he clarified - I can't push the spirits to do my bidding like I used to when I was... before the invasion, but as it turns out, this one has a second opening mechanism. I was so angry the other night, after you told me about how much of an asshole your teacher had been about your apprenticeship, that I smashed a bottle of liquor by mistake and while I was looking for some paper to clean up the mess I dripped some blood on it and bang! Hello Sith!" he added, tapping a finger onto the tip of the pyramid.

"Your blood... one of your ancestors was a Sith?!" Obi-Wan exclaimed.

Grievous nodded. "Darth Silentium, apprentice and husband to Darth Imperius. They were the warlords of the Western Reaches and contributed decisively to the defeat of the Eternal Empire at the time of the Great Galactic War." he explained calmly.

Obi-Wan did another mental double-take. Two Sith, married to one another? How was that even possible, if they were supposed to fight against everyone else for dominance? And how in hell had they managed to raise a family? If they had been anything like the Master, he couldn't help but shudder at the thought of the lives of their children.

Before he could voice any of his doubts, however, Grievous whispered something almost inaudible and the Holochron awoke from its standby mode, bathing the room in reddish, smoky light. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, shielding them and when he opened them again two ancient Sith were standing in the middle of the room, side by side, hand in hand: a tall, broad-shouldered, sixty-something Zabrak woman with a long, ginger-grey braid, red-gold eyes and crimson tattoos crisscrossing her sand-tan skin, and a slightly younger Kaleesh man with golden eyes, a mass of steel grey hair bound in cornrows and a bone-white mask ornamented in red.

Their robes were flowing and black and almost identical saberstaffs hung from their belts, in what seemed a classical Sith fashion, but their presence in the Force didn't feel evil, powerful and sharp yes, hardened by hard lives, but not cruel, and the look on their faces was almost fond, as if they were nothing more than doting grandparents, looking upon their younger descendants across the gulf of millennia.

It was completely strange and unwarranted, but Obi-Wan could not help but feel safe in their presence, as safe as he felt in the company of Grievous himself, even though they looked battle-hardened and wise with long years of struggles and experience.

Old Sith... and not just that, Sith who had grown old together and that had decided to stand side by side for eternity in this legacy to their family... it was absurd, all of it, but it tugged at his heart in an odd way, making the words stick in his throat.

"What..." he managed to spit out, but Grievous silenced him with a gesture.

"Greetings, _marum ša marum_ , child of our children." the Kaleesh man, Darth Silentium, said. His voice was deep and rough, but warm, like the sun-kissed stones of the Temple.

"As we record this, we have no idea of whose descendent you might be, or when you might live and in what circumstances you might end up opening this Holochron of ours, so we hope you will forgive us if we speak in Basic, even though it sucks to pander so much to Core-centrism." he added with a wry little smile. Darth Imperius smiled in turn. The lines on her face, on her cheeks and at the corners of her eyes, gave the impression that she had smiled a lot in her life.

"We have no idea of who you will be, whether you will happen upon this by chance after it's been long forgotten, or if learning from us will have become another weird family tradition of our line, so we have tried to be as thorough as possible in explaining everything that can possibly help you avoid losing yourself down the path to the Dark Side, like many of our contemporaries have." she continued, only to taper out towards the end, staring silently at the void. Her husband wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side in a comforting embrace.

"We've had a hard life, your grandmother and I. We almost didn't marry, because we let our beliefs about our calling corral us into preconceived strictures and limitations. - he continued in her stead - We fought for almost our entire lives against people who tried to impose their vision on others, trapping them in it, against those who thought they could own the Galaxy and the lives of everyone in it. We've learned much in this fight, and we want to pass this knowledge on to you, because life is already hard enough, and we want you to be able to enjoy it, to laugh, to love, to mess it up and fix it. We want you to be happy, but most of all we want you to be free." he concluded.

"So this is our gift to you, child of our children: all that we've learned about the Force and the Dark Side in fourty years of ass-kicking and scholarship. We know that there can be no peace, if there is no justice, that freedom is a lie, if people are just free to starve and to curse in the clutches of species and economic oppression. - Darth Imperius managed to resume then, even though her baleful starburst eyes were wet with tears - We hope that you will never feel this for yourself, but even when life seems unbearable, always remember this: there is always hope, as long as you are ready to risk it all and fight to the end for what you believe in. Your anger, your pain, your passion, your grief and your love will give you the power to overcome any obstacle."

"There is no chain that cannot be shattered, no prison that cannot be broken, no matter how hard and strong it seems to be, or how entrenched with tradition it has become. - Darth Silentium continued - The Force will show you the way that leads to true freedom, child of my children. Make of it the bread you eat and the wine you drink, the pillow where you rest your head and the air you breathe, and nothing will be able to stop you." he promised.

"And remember, even though we might be long gone, you will never be alone. We will be watching over you from Over There because we love you, child. We're proud of you. So proud..." Darth Imperius declared, tears streaming down her face.

The holographic recording stopped and the two Sith disappeared. Obi-Wan felt as if a painkiller had suddenly stopped working, leaving him raw and bleeding, bereft of comfort, because those two made the Dark Side sound like a beautiful, shining thing of justice and freedom and love, because they cared not just for each other but also for their descendants and without even knowing them. He had never seen such unconditional, visceral love before. How could love be wrong, he asked himself, not for the first time in the last two weeks.

"There is another way, Obi-Wan." Grievous whispered. Strong arms wrapped around him, pressing him close to his warm, solid body and Obi-Wan melted into his embrace, allowing himself to draw strength from his presence. 

"We don't have to choose between the failings of the Republic and the totalitarism of the Master. We can do things differently." he whispered in his ear, threading his fingers in his hair and caressing it in a way that made him want to purr.

"I might not be a philosopher, but I know this: when the river floods, you build canals and bring its water to your dried-up fields. - he continued - The Dark Side is rising, right? So we'll steer it the right way and channel it into more freedom and equality, like they did. We can stop him, Obi-Wan. We can make this stop once and for all." he whispered feverishly.

"We?" Obi-Wan asked. He couldn't help but savour that word.

"Yes, both of us. You can't be the only Jedi who doubts the purposes of the Republic, and I'm pretty sure I am not the only head of state from the Outer Rim who is sick of seeing their people oppressed and exploited. - he replied, his voice still quiet but intense - If we work together, we can reach the critical mass necessary to dig a channel deep enough that the Master would be cut off from the flood of history altogether."

"I... I had never seen it this way... but I think you're right. I will help." Obi-Wan agreed. His heart was beating so fast that it was drowning almost any other sound and his hands were shaking. He was afraid. Of losing himself to the deep end of the Dark Side, of the Sith Master, but more than anything of failing, of letting everybody down, of not being enough, but he knew that something had to be done or the future that loomed in the Force would become a certainty and that was something he simply could not accept.

"I need you to be sure. If you are with me in this you might end up losing your home and your associates. You will probably be criminalised and hunted down." Grievous said, and for a moment Obi-Wan considered feeling offended by his lack of faith in him, but when he looked at him it was not doubt or mistrust that he saw, but worry, one last-ditch attempt to spare him from more pain, even if it meant shouldering all the burden alone, again.

"It's a risk I am willing to run. I can't just sit there and do nothing while you play hero and put your scaly butt on the line. - he replied, winking as he kneaded his partner's muscular ass through his shorts, earning a small growl - I am quite fond of it."

"Good to know what you are in this for..." Grievous whispered, retributing the gesture and pressing his stiffening erection against his front.

"I am quite fond of you, you maniac. - Obi-Wan retorted with an exasperated sigh - I've lost enough people I cared for already." he added. Images came unbidden to his mind.

Qui-Gon dying, bleeding, asking him to look after Anakin, to train the Chosen One, and then the night he spent in the waste tunnels under the Theed Reactor with Maul, listening to his tales of slavery and pain as they waited for the rescue teams to find them, and the way his already quiet voice had grown quieter and quieter with the realisation that it had all been for nothing, that it had all been a lie, until it was forever silent.

"We will make justice for your teacher and your Sith." Grievous promised, catching his train of thought with the usual uncanny ease. He backed off a bit, creating a gap between their bodies, so that his embrace was again more comforting than sexual.

"He is not my Sith." Obi-Wan protested.

"You celebrated the burial rites for him. You still mourn him. If that doesn't make him yours, I don't know what would. - he retorted  - And it's alright. He didn't have anyone else, after all. At least this way he's not going to be forgotten." he added.

"I just can't let go. I am a terrible Jedi..." Obi-Wan sighed.

"You're a wonderful person, though. - Grievous retorted without missing a beat - And I am going to miss you, Obi-Wan Kenobi." he said more quietly.

"I am going to miss you too, Ghamdzhan kaghan." the Jedi replied, letting his affection towards the warlord colour his words.

"Damn...You shouldn't have said my real name like that. Now I really want to hear you to say it when you come for me..." he growled, laying his forehead against his but refusing to take that last step that would press their bodies together once more.

"And how is that is a problem?" Obi-Wan teased him, pushing his hips forward to meet his. They were only half-hard, but it wouldn't take very long for them to warm up until they were burning.

"I tought... I thought you wouldn't be in the right frame of mind for this..." Grievous gasped, tilting his hips to seek more friction.

"It's our last night together." Obi-Wan pointed out. His hands were splayed on his back. He intended to touch every part of him, to remember that feeling forever.

"We will have more. - he promised - This Galaxy is not so big and we have our own long game to play. We'll have to meet again."

Obi-Wan felt a thrill of anticipation at those words, but still...

"I am still a Jedi, albeit a fallen one. We live in the here and now." he declared.

"And you're desperate, as usual..." Grievous teased him, but his voice was a low purr and his hands were under his cloak, caressing his chest through the layers of his uniform and slowly pushing the garment off his shoulders.

"And you waited for me in your underwear because you wanted to have tea with me, right?" Obi-Wan teased him back, grabbing his cock through his shorts and squeezing it. Grievous let out an incoeherent, wonderful noise and pushed him onto the bed, not entirely gently. His hands were everywhere, unwrapping him from his clothes, but Obi-Wan had taken hold of his cock straight away and soon his tactical advantage started to tell as Grievous grew more and more distracted the more he pumped his fist around it, until he was just kneeling above him, hands balled into fists, head thrown back, riding the feeling.

Obi-Wan twisted his hips pushed and rolled with the movement and, before his partner had even realised what was going on, he found himself on his back with a grinning Obi-Wan straddling his waist.

"How about you relax and let me take care of you, this time?" he proposed.

Grievous looked on the verge of protesting, but all his doubts were quelled when Obi-Wan started shedding his last tunic with slow, deliberate moves.

"Damn, Kenobi... Do you know how fucking handsome you are?" he whispered, running his hands almost reverently on his newly exposed skin.

"I have an idea, thanks to you. - Obi-Wan replied - Now, speaking about fucking..." he added with a smirk, squeezing him until he was gasping and and arching on the bed.

"Do it... please! Whatever you want!" Grievous managed to plead. 

"Whatever I want, eh?... - he whispered, bending low to nibble at his neck and at the lobe of his ear to make him squirm and whimper even more. He loved how he didn't mind being vulnerable with him.

"What I want is to make you come so hard you'll remember it for the rest of your life." Obi-Wan declared finally.

It was a good thing he had been trained all his life in patience and restraint, he decided a while later as he came up for air after another intense few minutes of eating his partner up. He had stopped just in time and now Grievous was arching underneath him in frustrated pleasure and a few drops of fluid were leaking down his thick, engorged cock.

He repressed the impulse to bend his head down again and lick them off, even though he would have liked nothing better. He was already on the edge as it was, he didn't want to push it too far and miss out on the rest of he fun.

"You are diabolical, Kenobi..."  Grievous panted after a few moments.

"And you like it." Obi-Wan retorted, allowing himself a smirk.

"I do." he admitted quietly, without any hesitation. Obi-Wan felt like his heart had melted a little at his tone and the emotions it concealed.

"Do you want to be inside me?" he asked. There was only so far he could push that game. He was hard as a rock and basically leaking too and he physically ached to be filled and fucked.

"Gods, yes! I need to feel you..." Grievous replied.

Obi-Wan allowed himself another smile.

"Alright." he said, then rose to his knees and turned around so that his face was more or less level with his partner's twitching cock and his ass was basically in his face.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Grievous asked, grabbing his ass as he knew he would. His voice was feverish, and there was a new tension in the air.

"Help me prepare, maybe?" Obi-Wan pointed out, letting out a little yelp when he slapped him.

"There are easier ways..." he growled.

"There are. But most of them would mean that you'd be on top of me, and that I'd be tempted to let you fuck me raw." Obi-Wan admitted and his own cock twitched hard at the mere thought.

"Better to avoid temptation, then." Grievous teased him, fingers running down the crack of his ass, ghosting around his puckered hole.

"Precisely." he gasped, thrusting back against his touch.

There was a long, considering pause. Obi-Wan didn't understand why, but the tension was increasing, growing to a fever pitch.

"Gods... I can't..." Grievous groaned at the end, sounding a little desperate.

"Can't what?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Do you trust me?" Grievous retorted, ignoring his question completely.

"Of course I do! Why would I even be here if I didn't?!" Obi-Wan exclaimed, glaring at him over his shoulder. Whatever in hell was going on?

"Then turn away and don't look back." he admonished.

"Alright." Obi-Wan aquiesced, doing as he was told.

The bed shifted at his back and there was a small noise, like when two hard surfaces collide with each other.

"I don't know at the hell is going on but... Oh!" a startled exclamation interrupted his protests. Something wet and squirming was moving intently against his hole, slicking it up and massaging it all at once, and his veins were flooding with pleasure.

It took him a moment to put all the pieces together. That noise, it must have been his mask being placed on the bedside table and that feeling...

"Oh, Force!" he gasped. When he had heard people talking about it, he had always imagined that it would be a degrading, disgusting practice, but now the only things he could think of were how good it felt, how intimate. 

The impulse to turn and look reared up immediately, but he stamped on it as hard as he could.

He'd read enough about the Kaleesh to know that taking one's mask off was actually a big deal, and showing one's face to someone else was an even bigger one. Grievous was putting an enormous amount of trust in him, and he wasn't going to throw it all away on a whim.

He'd stay still and calm, he resolved. Turning was a no-no, but bucking was also not an amazingly good idea, considering where his partner's tusks were, he thought, feeling a thrill run through his veins. Mutual trust turned him on, he realised, or maybe it was danger. Both, probably... he was so screwed, physically and metaphorically.

He hung his head down, hands balled into the bedsheets, and took it, riding the heady current of pleasure and submission as he licked, kissed and probed that most intimate part of him, slowly making him loosen up and bringing him closer and closer to begging for more.

"Fuck... I have been thinking about eating your sweet ass up since the first night..." Grievous rasped as he stretched him mercilessly, wringing soft, helpless noises out of his lips. He had slipped the first finger into his slicked hole without warning, but he had already been so far gone that he had only felt a jolt of pleasure, and the second one had hardly encountered more resistance. After two weeks of being screwed senseless, he was getting used to it enough that the pain had all gone, leaving only the extasy.

"I don't know what you do to me... I couldn't resist..." he added, almost apologetically.

"Ngh!... Not complaining!" Obi-Wan exclaimed, allowing himself to buck and grind against his touch. He was ready, hell, if it went on any longer like that he'd come just from his fingers.

"Do you want me?" he asked, twisting his fingers just so that they brushed against his spot.

Obi-Wan nodded frantically.

"Put your mask back on, I need to watch you come..." he instructed, then bent down and took his leaking cock into his mouth, sucking it greedily and sloppily until it was slick with his spit.

"Done! Please!" Grievous pleaded, tugging at his waist urgently.

Obi-Wan turned on his lap to face him and he grabbed his own dick, holding it upright so that Obi-Wan could line himself up and slowly sink on him. He had wanted to look at him as he took him, but with that new angle his cock felt even more overwhelmingly big and his eyes fluttered closed on their own. 

Grievous arched into him, hands gripping his waist and he sank and sank until he had taken all of him, and they shuddered together, breathing hard.

"Damn... so close already..." Grievous panted.

"Me too..." Obi-Wan's  agreed. He splayed his hands on his partner's chest and rose slightly on his knees, rolling his hips experimentally, slowly and cautiously at first and then harder and faster, incited by the noises he was making, by the grip of his hands on his hips, on his hair and finally around his neck. He arched back, tilting his head back and his hips and the pleasure suddenly became unbearable, scraping his nerves raw with every thrust of their hips.

He had some warning this time, enough to take a deep breath at least, and when his climax overcame him, he finally managed to scream his name like a prayer or an invocation as he spilled all over his red, red scales. It was just a matter of moments before Grievous came as well, crying out for him as he filled him with his spend.

Later they lay in each other's arms, panting and quivering with aftershocks.

"You make me so happy... it's almost scary." Grievous whispered, nuzzling his masked face against the top of Obi-Wan's head.

"I know. I am scared too." Obi-Wan admitted.

"I thought you were not supposed to." he teased him.

"Yes, well, I wasn't  not supposed to make love to you either, much less to get seduced to the Dark Side." Obi-Wan pointed out with a mock-exhasperated sigh.

Grievous cast him a worried look.

"I am not complaining. - Obi-Wan reassured him - I don't regret any of this, but the way you make me feel is... dangerous. So many things can go wrong. It would be so easy for all this happiness to turn to ashes and grief..."

Grievous gave him a knowing look and he immediately felt like an idiot for trying to be profound when his partner knew much better than him how that felt.

"It's still worth feeling it, though." Grievous said after a long pause.

"Yes, it is." Obi-Wan agreed, snuggling against him as close as he could. Grievous started petting his hair and Obi-Wan realised he was drifting off with the excess of endorphines, the warmth of his body and the gentleness of his touch, but he couldn't find the will to fight it. 

Just five minutes before we part, he thought. He could allow himself this small, guilty pleasure.

He woke up with a start to the sound of some insistent buzzing.

"There is someone in my bed!" he thought, bolting upright, ready to flee or fight, then...

"Ooh, wait a second... This is not my room!" he realised.

"Damn!" Grievous rumbled next to him, finger-combing his hair into a semblance of order with a confused, slightly alarmed expression on his still-masked face.

Pale morning light was streaming trough the gaps in the curtains.

They had actually fallen asleep together. Obi-Wan didn't know whether he should feel more pleased or more worried. For the moment his mind settled on worried: the closer it got to the time when most people would be awake, the higher the chances for the two of them to get caught.

"You can escape out of the balcony. - Grievous suggested, catching his train of thought - If they see you out there you can pretend you were having an early morning walk in the park."

"Sounds like a plan. Do I have time for a shower first?" Obi-Wan asked. His skin was still spattered and streaked with the evidence from their earlier activities and even though it had dried out, he'd still rather wash before he put his clothes back on.

"Of course. Knock yourself out." Grievous replied.

Obi-Wan was sorely tempted to invite him to share it with him, all in the name of economising water, of course, but abstained from it. They were sure to get delayed and it wasn't worth risking the entirety of their daring plan to save the Galaxy for one last frantic lovemaking session, he told himself.

He cleaned up quickly under the hot water, erasing all compromising traces from his body. On a whim, he lathered his hair with Grievous' shampoo (he did have a thing for the man's hair and also for his scent), hoping that the delegates would not notice, but of course Grievous himself realised as soon as he set foot outside the refresher, mostly dressed but with a wet  towel wrapped around his head.

"Thankfully neither Muuns nor Cereans have a great sense of smell..." he whispered, pressing his masked face against Obi-Wan's hair.

"Back home this stunt would amount to a confession." he added with a sigh.

"Would your spouses get mad?" Obi-Wan dared to ask.

"Unlikely. We're more friends who chose to raise kids together than anything else. We wanted a large family after being orphaned in the war, so we made one." he replied with a shrug.

"You know you are amazing, right?" Obi-Wan told him, hugging him in spite of the fact that he was still messy from the night.

Grievous smiled a bit uncertain, then took his hand and placed a data chip in his palm.

"This will grant you access to an encrypted comms channel. - he explained when Obi-Wan looked a question at him - With this, the Jedi will never know we're keeping in contact."

"You came prepared." Obi-Wan teased him, even as he stashed the chip in an inner pocket of his belt. He'd guard it as the most precious treasure.

"You never know when some good intrigue is going to stir up. - he replied - It pays to be prepared if you want to grow a revolution." he added with a grin.

"I'll keep it in mind. So what is the password going to be?" Obi-Wan asked.

"You pick it." he retorted.

 

Obi-Wan mulled over the matter for a moment. Deneza was too obvious and everything else that came to his mind was either too cheesy or too suggestive, except...

"Silentium! Of course!" he exclaimed, snapping his fingers.

Grievous smiled and ruffled his hair. "It works many different levels... good choice. - he complimented - Now I am afraid it's time." he added with a sigh.

Obi-Wan checked the clock. It was past time, actually.

"You're right. Farewell then, my khaghan." he saluted with a formal bow, letting the towel drop to the floor.

"Farewell for now, sir Knight." Grievous replied, but the formality of is greeting was a bit ruined by the fact that he was very naked.

On an impulse Obi-Wan rose to his tiptoes and placed a kiss on his mask, more or less where his mouth must have been, then turned and ran to the balcony.

No one was in sight. Obi-Wan went over the rail and, as he waited to drop, he looked back into the room one more time.

Grievous was still standing there, as if rooted to that spot, his eyes dark and wide and full of longing, his right hand pressed against his mask where he had kissed him.

That image remained burned into his memory for weeks after they had taken off from Deneza.


End file.
